The Identicals(93)

“A drunken fling,” Tabitha says. Isn’t that what she thought? She certainly hadn’t intended to end up this emotionally vested.

“I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with you,” Franklin says.

“Are you?” Tabitha says. “In love with me?”

Franklin nods into his hands. “I think I am,” he whispers. Then he raises his head and gazes into her eyes to deliver the parting blow. “But it doesn’t matter. Sadie is my family.”





HARPER


They take the inter-island ferry: Harper, Ainsley, and Fish. Caylee and Meghan will mind the shop. This is going to be a short trip, one night, which they will spend in Harper’s duplex.

Harper says to Ainsley, “I’m sure you’re anxious to see your mother, but I don’t think I’ll be able to control my temper around her.”

Ainsley says, “That’s okay. I’ll see Tabitha—I mean, my mother—when she comes back to Nantucket, whenever that is.”

“Thank you,” Harper says. She places a protective hand on her abdomen. She is verklempt about Tabitha renovating the house. She understands exactly what happened: Tabitha heard about the party at the store from Meghan, and she figured that then gave her the right to do whatever she wanted. There was no way the opportunity to avenge was going to get past Tabitha; she has never let an affront go unanswered. Never! In many ways, Harper and Tabitha are like the Hayley Mills characters in The Parent Trap—one cuts the other’s dress during the dance; the other sets an elaborate trap of honey and string. But what Tabitha did is more than a prank. It concerns Harper’s livelihood, her survival. Harper needs the money from the proceeds of the sale. Tabitha has no idea how badly Harper needs it.



It’s disorienting to visit the Vineyard in the manner of the lowliest of tourists: the day-tripper. The ferry pulls into Oak Bluffs, and Harper is presented with a vista that is as familiar to her as her own kneecaps, yet she sees it with new eyes: the green expanse of Ocean Park, the jaunty colors of the gingerbread houses in the Methodist campground. Harper could take Ainsley on the Flying Horses carousel right now; they could have dinner at the Red Cat. But those things wouldn’t make the Vineyard feel like home.

What makes the Vineyard feel like home for Harper is the people. First of all, obviously, Billy. But Billy is dead.

From there it gets even more difficult: Drew, Reed, Brendan.

Five of the gingerbread cottages in front of them are owned by the Truman-Snyder family—Drew’s mother and his aunties, who made Harper the pot of lobster stew. Right now, Drew will be in his cruiser—maybe on Main Street in Edgartown, maybe issuing a parking ticket out in Katama, maybe sitting with his radar gun in the elementary school parking lot. He is so handsome, so well built, so well intentioned. He must hate Harper’s guts, and for good reason. She used him as a distraction from Reed.

Reed is… well, if he’s on the Vineyard, he’s doing a good job of hiding. Harper might be able to ask people she knows—Rooster? Franklin Phelps? Greenie?—if they’ve seen him or heard from him, if they know where he is. I need to talk to him, Harper would say. It’s important. But she will leave it at that.

Brendan Donegal. Brendan should be sitting by the koi pond at Mytoi or walking on East Beach skipping stones, but now Brendan, too, is dead. Harper takes a deep breath, then winds Fish’s leash around her wrist as she disembarks from the ferry. Fish pulls her along; he knows they’re home. Ainsley is right behind them. Ainsley has aged about fifteen years in the last twenty-four hours, Harper figures. That’s what handling a tragedy does to a person.

They are renting a car from A-A Island Auto Rental, on the wharf. It’s a short trip, but Harper can’t be dependent on cabdrivers who may or may not know their way around by now. They pile into a generic gunmetal-gray Jeep. Nobody will recognize her.

“Are you hungry?” Harper asks Ainsley.

“No,” Ainsley says.

“Me, either,” she says. She hasn’t been able to eat since Edie’s call. “Let’s go do this, then.”

Ainsley nods. She gazes out the window. “It’s so pretty here,” she says.

“That it is,” Harper says.



It’s one of those clear blue days that seem to have been made for the Vineyard. The heat and humidity are gone: everything has a crisp edge. How many days like this has Harper taken for granted? Someday she, too, will die. Fish will die, Ainsley will die, the baby inside Harper will die. It’s a grim train of thought, but it’s not nearly as daunting as what lies ahead. Harper has to see Edie and, in her own way, say good-bye to Brendan.

In Edgartown, Harper obeys every traffic law and speed limit; she lets a driver from Tisbury Taxi go in front of her at the triangle. There is, she thinks, a first time for everything. She can’t have Drew or anyone else from the Edgartown police pulling her over. She drives down Main Street, Ainsley oohing and aahing over the Old Whaling Church and the Daniel Fisher house, then Harper pulls in line for the On Time III, even though the line is longer by two cars than the one for the On Time II. But Harper is avoiding everyone she knows, including Indira Mayhew, the ferry master on the On Time II.

She puts down the window to buy a ticket.

“Long time, no see, my friend.”

Harper turns. Indira is here, working on the III.